Sunday, August 25, 1996

Student relates tale of futile encounter at donut counter

Allow me to tell you a tale of woe. It's a miserable story, one that I think is reflective of a greater problem on campus. It all started in a small corner of Ackerman.

I was leaning coolly (picture Humphrey Bogart in "Casablanca," only cooler) against a copy machine, killing time before class by reading the latest edition of the Daily Bruin, when suddenly, I saw her.

She was working at the pastry section carefully readjusting muffins and cleaning things up. She was stunning. The way the the sun glinted off of the clear glass donut display showing off the different shades of brown in her hair made my heart stop. I had to meet her, but how?

We had nothing in common. We shared no classes, we knew none of the same people, hell, I didn't even know her name. Frantically, my brain started formulating possible plans: 1. Buy 30-dozen muffins. Wait, no money. 2. Tell her you really love her sweet buns and pray she understands you're talking about the pastries. Too risky. 3. Tell her you're a pastry inspector and that you'll forget everything you've seen if she'll go out with you. Too stupid.

My brain was screaming at me to stop being a fool and do something. Time was wasting! That's it! Time!

A brilliant plan formed in my head. Slowly I approached her, circling like a hungry shark towards a surfer. I finally reached the glass counter where she looked at me with an expectant expression on her beautiful face. I smiled my smooth Dean Cain-Superman smile at her (not to be confused with my Jimmie Walker grin), and in my 92.3 The Beat Theo voice I seductively intoned, "Excuse me, but would you happen to know the time?" My god, I practically oozed sex appeal! If that wasn't a brilliant invitation to begin dialogue I don't what was! Then she gave me the look.

Everybody knows the look. It's the same look a professor gives you when you tell him the reason why you slept through every single one of his lectures is because you learn better when you're relaxed ... really relaxed. She gave me that you stupid jackass look and pointing towards the copy machine said:

"There's a clock on the wall. Didn't you see it when you were over there?" She turned her back on me, and then I could have sworn I heard my Lady Love mutter under her breath "Freakin' retard." I felt like an art major in an O-Chem class ... stupid. Hastily, I gathered my crushed ego together and stumbled to class.

That's the whole problem with this campus ­ it's too hard to find that special someone. There should be a designated area on campus where single people can meet and talk in a comfortable environment.

So far I have found only three places where new people can meet and possibly find romance. 1. In line for financial aid. There's just someone about being in debt for thousands of dollars that brings out the love in people. Never, except for in the depths of Murphy, have I ever seen so many serious, hushed, and huddled conversations between complete strangers as they tell each other the tragedies they've experienced in their confrontations with housing officials, loan transactors and award distributors. People literally spill out their guts to others in line because they know only those people understand what they're going through. It's the perfect dating opportunity!

2. At tutoring. Ignorance truly is bliss. I know many people who have formed relationships with a person they met while struggling through a particularly confusing class. People seem to be attracted to those who are just as perplexed as they are. Nothing brings people closer together like utter and total helplessness.

3. Dorm cafeterias. Hot glances across the salad bar, a quick smile at the smoothie bar, an "accidental" touch in the pizza line. The cafeterias at this school are containers of sexual tension just waiting to explode. I don't know what it is about eating that gets everybody so excited but the dorm cafeterias for me have always been the best place to meet and flirt with members of the opposite sex. I think it's gotta be the jello.

I hope that someday a place will be created to specifically address the needs of the single people on this campus. Until that time comes I hope everybody keeps trying, I know I will. Uh, just avoid Ackerman.

Happy hunting!

Torres is a third-year psychology student and this is his last column. Thank God.